Our Four-Legged Fiend
by Giggles96
Summary: Our favourite trio get a new office pet. Karen lets it away with murder, Foggy is in love, and Matt doesn't have the faintest clue what all the fuss is about. Prompt fill. One-shot


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 **Our Four-Legged Fiend**

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 **A/N:** Written for a prompt on the Daredevil Kinkmeme. This is not my puppy fic, so I sampled some of my other works for inspiration. Not sure if this is what the OP had in mind, but I hope it's alright.

 **Disclaimer:** _none of these characters belong to me. I apologise in advance for any foul language._

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From the moment Foggy hobbled into the firm carrying a medium-sized box and Karen peeked inside and immediately squealed in what she'd later come to describe as a 'cuteness overload,' it was obvious that Matt was the only one who had yet to fall victim to the charms of the rotten, evil, deceptively innocent, little demon that would embed itself into their lives like a bloodsucking leech.

The conversation, if he recalls correctly, went something like this:

 _'I found her abandoned in a dumpster,' Foggy ranted upon entry, soothingly petting the scared, trembling pup as Karen bundled it up in a soft blanket to keep it warm. 'Can you believe that? What kind of monster leaves a precious little cutie like this to fend for itself?'_

 _'We don't have the money to squander on a puppy, Foggy,' Matt had gently reminded him. It was obvious he hadn't at all thought this through. 'Do you know how much it costs to keep a dog these days? There's the weekly kibble and chew toys, the price of grooming and the endless veterinary bills. Never mind the time and effort it takes to sustain such a huge commitment. Time is money, too, you know.'_

 _'I know, I know-'_

 _'So what's the problem?'_

 _'Matt, she's just…' Foggy's voice had sounded genuinely pained, 'she's just so damn cute.'_

 _'Don't tell me you've been blinded by its small size and tragic goo-goo eyes?'_

 _'Might have…maybe,' Matt quirked a dubious brow, 'Okay, definitely,' he allows, 'But that doesn't change the fact that it's wrong to see to ourselves at her expense.'_

 _'Can't save everyone, Foggy,' Matt uttered, reluctant but resigned, though it didn't at all have the desired effect, only seeming to shove Foggy's inner Prince Charming to the surface; the knight in shinning armour coming to the rescue._

 _'I'd like to think we can try.'_

 _'Look, I'll level with you.' He was frustrated by then. Frustrated that he could feel Karen's disapproval radiating off her in spades, frustrated that he was the only one keeping a level head. Frustrated by their righteousness and basic lack of judgment._ Someone _had to be the voice of reason; he'd just prefer that every once in a while the position could be assumed by someone other than him. He felt backed into a corner, stuck between a rock and a hard place. But it was fine, really. Matt could be the bad guy, he could play the indifferent asshole, if need be. 'Funds are low, our client base is all but microscopic and painful though it may be, a puppy is a big responsibility that we can't afford to take on right now. I'm sorry, Foggy….We can't keep her.'_

 _'But - but -_ Matt _…'_

 _'Take care of it - will you? Please. I trust you can find her a loving home?'_

 _'Dude…this is Hell's Kitchen we're talking about. I wouldn't hold out much hope._ '

Dazed, disgruntled, and downright baffled in the face of his friends' raptness, Matt discovered he was, in fact, thoroughly immune.

Foggy bounced the pup in his lap and raised it in front of his face, jiggling it lightly and rattling on in a voice that was warm like soft, chewy cookies with a gooey, butterscotch centre.

Karen twisted her head away when it licked under her chin and cradled the puppy in one arm like a young infant, tickling its porky pot belly with one manicured finger and cooing an endless stream of coochie, coochie coos.

And Matt…didn't get it.

When they stare into this creature's infinitely large eyes, do they come face to face with the beauty of a thousand angels? Do their eyes water at the unearthly radiance, unable to look away? Bewitched by the stunning display unlike anything they've ever witnessed before; awe-inducing and utterly mesmerizing. Was this the norm? Or a supernatural phenomenon?

What could he _possibly_ be missing?

Potent powers of hypnotism? Glitzy magic that spurts out in a frenzy and rains down in a shower of coercion and manipulative allure? Glands which secrete hormones to endear nearby populace and put them under a trance? Matt pondered the implications. Was this nature's way of ensuring the species' survival? By eliciting a protective impulse in a superior species through sheer _cuteness_ alone? It was ingenious, it was incredible. It didn't make any sense.

Sure, as a kid, he'd thought they were nice, very visually appealing animals, but Matt does not share Foggy's affinity for dogs. He's never had anything against them, per say, but he was never crazy about them either, and that's exactly how he found himself interpreting his friend's behaviour over the next several weeks: as absolute insanity.

Matt couldn't understand how nothing more than external adorability could outweigh the destruction of this insufferable holy terror that's troublesome tendencies and penchant for mischief seemed to elude everyone but him.

Weren't they repelled by the pup's nervous bladder which has a fondness for promptly emptying _the second_ they mention taking it outside to do its business? Or - or the way it continually desecrates over their good carpet? The sheer amount of times he has been engrossed in a file only to be interrupted by a panicked, 'Code red! I repeat, _code red_! The pup's squatting! Karen…Karen, do something, it's pooping everywhere! _Karen_!' is not even funny.

Well…anymore.

The first few times, yes, Matt had been in near-hysterics listening to the two try - and fail - to house break their beloved fur ball, but the novelty soon wore off when it was happening, oh, _ten times a day_. And the smell…Oh God, the smell. Matt has dropped to his knees to puke into a wastebasket more often than he'd care to admit.

It's horrible.

How can he be the only one to find the task of caring for this pup so stressful? To Matt, this new arrival is nothing more than an unwelcome nuisance and he resents the fact that no-one else resents having to clean up after the constant messes or tolerate its less appealing qualities. The less appealing qualities which are so blatant to him.

Like how the puppy scrambles around like a miniature shark donning a furry coat, hunting out clothes, upholstery, wooden legs, and most commonly - skin. Rows of razor-sharp teeth that seem to sprout overnight. Having a puppy in their offices doesn't exactly scream professionalism - as Matt so regularly points out, - but it certainly doesn't help that balls of fluff coast along the floor alongside ripped up cushions with the stuffing pouring out of them, and shredded papers, from potentially important documents, are strewn around and indented with tiny bite marks. Sometimes even pasted to the floorboards with trails of saliva.

There's also the puppy's unfortunate habit of chewing on the sides on her food bowl, hoisting it up within her jowl and vigorously shaking it back and forth. Now and again, she'd even hurl the hollow disk into the air like a Frisbee with a tactless jerk of the head, Matt's quick reflexes being the only thing to save him from getting whacked on the head.

Not to mention how the pup insists on jumping all over him whenever Matt has anywhere remotely important to be, branding him with hairs - resilient little buggers which are a frickin' nightmare to remove - and grime and leaving Matt no other option than to seek out Foggy or Karen to ask if he's in any way presentable enough to meet with a client.

Digging, chasing, wrecking havoc - the pup is an unstoppable, rampaging, cane-loving machine.

And that's the other thing!

Karen and Foggy have found it a reliable source of amusement, but in Matt's case, the constant tugging on his cane whilst he's walking is not 'funny,' or 'sweet,' or 'adorable.' It's just annoying.

Regardless how many times he reiterates, 'No, I am _not_ playing tug of war with you,' the pup _never_ listens. He could shout it 'til he's blue in the face and it still wouldn't make any difference. The stern words have no effect. Which is…it's infuriating. His office mates are never consistent in their reinforcement, often letting things slide when they _know_ , deep down, they shouldn't, and as such, the pup has zero respect for authority. She believes she is the alpha within the group, with no-one to answer to, and surely Matt would be more than up for stripping her of that attitude and maybe he _should_ step up to the plate, but…the puppy was never his charge. He never signed up for a canine companion that masquerades as Satan himself. It's Karen and Foggy's fault that she acts like this, under their own laid-back guidance and unwillingness to discipline. Even if they don't realise it yet.

It makes working awfully difficult. They're supposed to be focused, diligent, and cramming their schedule with productivity in order to gain new clients, wins cases, and generate revenue to _keep the firm afloat_ , and a dog, particularly _this_ dog, is far from conducive to that.

But the worst thing? The worst thing of all?

Is the pup's obsession with Matt himself.

 **…**

'Remind me again why we put up with this?' Matt grumbles on their way to their desks one Monday morning after tripping over another one of the puppy's many chew toys for what feels like the thousandth time, which he kicks out of the way while biting back a curse. He is so sick of trying to dodge dozens of half-masticated items that litter their floor.

'She's cute-'

'She's a public menace!'

'You just haven't bonded with her yet. Toss her a squeaky toy, she'll love you forever. Shower her with attention and she turns to mush. It's not that hard.'

'I don't want a cuddly new chum, Foggy,' Matt sighs, 'I want to be able to walk around without worrying about accidentally stepping on a puppy.'

'Don't be such a grouch,' the reply is flippant as he dives onto his chair and spins around, 'You know you're in love her secretly.' Foggy snatches one of the pup's tennis balls and begins tossing it up into the air and effortlessly catching it, pausing to take a dreg of coffee.

'Am I, though?' Matt muses as he hauls his briefcase onto the desk and pops it open, shuffling the folders and tracing the sides for any indication of which one he'd intended to present to Foggy. 'Because I don't feel it.'

'Ah…yeah? Of course?' Foggy answers, as if expecting a trick question.

'Two words, Foggy,' Matt locates the correct file and offers it to his partner, deadpanning, 'puppy breath.'

He rests his case.

Rather than address the issue, Foggy opts to change the subject altogether in a strained effort to erase the silence which has fallen between the pair. 'So, um, anyway - I was thinking about the name dilemma again, and-'

'For the last time, Foggy, you cannot call a dog Efficient. We've been over this.'

'Why not? It's what I called my first fish.'

Something in the way he says it, spikes Matt's curiosity, and he probes, 'First?'

'…I'd rather not get into it.'

'What about Pip?' Karen chimes, breezing into the office with the pup lagging behind, dragging her hind legs they no longer function. Speak of the Devil. 'My neighbour had a Scottish terrier called Pip. Granted, it was a boy, but what does that matter?'

Immediately, spotting Matt standing across the room, the little rascal springs up and yanks on the leash, yapping with a passion and jolting Karen forward.

'Settle down, Pip,' Karen breathlessly chuckles, brushing wisps of her hair out of her eyes and smoothing her skirt again, 'What did we say about being nice to Matty?'

'Pretty sure the problem's that she's a little _too_ nice,' Foggy comments, 'Boggles my mind, but that's how it is.'

Scooping her up, Karen exhales slowly and joggles the pup in her arms. 'Guess it's back to the conference room, huh?'

'Seems like. Otherwise, she'll be hounding him all morning.'

'Wait,' Matt interrupts, brows creasing, 'Perhaps it would be best if I left this time?'

'Nah, man. We need your expertise. Karen and I will take turns sitting in with her. Least 'til she calms down a bit.'

'You sure?'

'Positive,' Karen reassures, and he can tell by her tone, her smile is equally gentle. After carting the puppy into the conference room, she returns to assemble a few bits and bobs with an accelerated heart beat that speaks of her guilt.

He clears his throat. 'So, uh…Pip?'

She pauses.

'Yeah. Kinda sweet, don't ya think?'

'I like it,' Foggy murmurs. 'Suits her.'

Matt shrugs, 'Alright, then. Pip, it is.'

 **…**

Matt is having a really shitty day when Foggy marches towards his desk and dumps a warm, wriggly lump of fluff onto his lap.

He winces. 'Uh, Foggy, I'd rather not-'

'Too bad. I have a dentist appointment.'

'What about K-?'

'She's on her lunch break.'

Then he's gone, leaving Matt uncertainly cuddling the sleepy puppy, fingers sinking into her thick coat that carries a sweet scent that is strangely intoxicating. She feels like a hot-blooded teddy bear.

He realises belatedly this is the first time he's ever held her.

Covering her paw with his hand, Matt feels a twitch in his heart that he quickly dismisses as indigestion. He cups the pup's small rump under his hand, the fur critically soft between his fingers, and dangles her at arm's reach. She doesn't immediately pee on him, so that's a bonus. It seems fairly harmless.

He snuggles the puppy to his chest and hitches her up higher, closer to his face, despite the sharp pain that branches out from his torso as he does so. Something about it is just…comforting.

Matt had sustained a number of injuries the night before and although Claire did a good job of stitching him up, he's not in the best of form.

After a while, the silence begins to get to him and before he knows it, he's speaking, uttering words Matt never thought he'd let out, ever say out loud, 'I think I broke a couple ribs. Last night. It wasn't one of my finest moments, I'll admit that. Got a little more banged up than I'm comfortable with,' Matt's smiles wryly, 'Not that the jobs were overly difficult, and if they were, either way it's no excuse, but there were…Jesus, there were a lot. I mean, _a lot_. I was exhausted, I got careless. A few guys got the jump on me. It shouldn't have happened, and it won't happen again, but I…' he sighs, wets his lower lip, traps the soft meat between his teeth, 'Not that I can tell Foggy any of this, of course. He'd have a fit. But you…you make a pretty good listener.'

Pip snuffles and languidly stretches out, a wide, high-pitched yawn escaping her lips. Matt strokes Pip's downy ears in response and his arms absent-mindedly tighten around her.

'I hate it, sometimes,' he whispers, 'It tears me up inside to not, to - to - God, you don't know how much it tears me up sometimes. Knowing that there are these…these _problems_ , so many problems, all day, every day. I can't ignore it and I can't devote every second of my life to it. And that…that's excruciating.' Matt can't know for sure, of course, but he thinks that Pip is staring up at him, looking at him like she understands it all, understands every single word he's saying. 'Reminds me of everything I can't be, who I ought to be, and all of the fears my Dad held for me. Sometimes I think that, maybe - dammit, maybe he'd be proud of me. But then I realise that it's me; will only ever be me. Me and my imagination, and a whole lot of wishful thinking.'

 **…**

Following their literal heart-to-heart, Pip is insatiable, worse than ever before, and refuses to stop following Matt around.

She trots loyally at his heels, tail wagging, and barks when Matt fails to take notice of her, as if betrayed somehow.

The pup lounges at his feet - or, more accurately, _on_ his feet - and drools over her squidgy rubber bone that peeps when she presses down on it, determined to attach herself to his hip. And once she tires of that, Pip butts her head against his shin for attention and then attempts to burrow her snout in his leg, before locking the hem of his pants within her jaw and tugging, hard.

Finally, Matt sits back and sighs heavily. To her joy, he picks her up, plopping the pooch on his lap, where he lets Pip remain while he works, petting her every so often with one arm wound around her plump body. The arrangement works well for a while, with Matt even rolling up his sleeves and shedding his tie as time motors on, surprisingly at ease - that is, until Pip tilts her head and starts polishing between the liberated buttons of his shirt collar with a slobbery tongue in gratitude.

'Yes,' Matt mutters dully, wrinkling his nose, 'thank-you. That's very nice of you. But do you mind stopping, please? That tickles.'

'Better watch out, Foggy,' Karen laughs from somewhere nearby, likely the kitchenette, as she scrapes out a sloppy, wet meat-like substance from a can that smells like beef and feet. Must be approaching dinner-time. 'Looks like Matt's found a replacement.'

'I have not,' he objects, 'She's very persistent.'

'It's only a matter of time, Matty,' she sing-songs in response. 'Everybody loves puppies. Fact.'

'Speak for yourself.' His tone is apathetic, but the effect is lessened somewhat by the fact that he is rubbing Pip's head as she presses up against him, lips curling in fondness.

 **…**

'Sit. I said _sit_! C'mon, Pip, s _iiiiiittt_.' Throwing back his head, Foggy gives a quiet moan, as Pip continues to romp around the pokey space, crashing into the bookshelf and knocking into the desk, causing Matt to quickly clutch his glass of water at it shakes and threatens to spill over their laptops. 'Why won't you sit for me?'

'Give it up, Foggy,' Matt laughs, tempted to smile at the pup's antics, 'She's not interested.'

'And I suppose you would know, would you?' he fires back haughtily, which Matt doesn't take offence to, given his aggravation. Truth is, it's kind of made his day.

'Actually…yes. I would. She's never going to sit when she's in such a hyper mood.'

His voice climbs into a near-whine. 'But I made a bet with Karen that I could get her to sit by the end of the day!'

'Foggy, I love you, but… do yourself a favour and hand over the money. Before this gets any more embarrassing. I'm afraid to say it, but - looks to me like you've been hustled.'

He frowns. 'I have not been-'

'Yeah, you have,' Karen calls over with an amused giggle, and Foggy huffs in disbelief, before stomping over and forking out fifty bucks, which he begrudgingly slaps into Karen's waiting palm.

 **…**

' _Not_ on the couch,' Matt reprimands a few days later, firm and uncompromising. 'Down.'

The pup pauses, evaluates the situation. And bizarrely, to Foggy's undying envy…Pip complies without an issue.

 **…**

'What's puppy doing, huh? What's puppy at?'

In recent weeks, Matt has taken to speaking to Pip in the silliest of tones when no-one else is around. For reasons he can't, or perhaps won't, explain, his voice adopts the most cloying, babyish of pitches and he can't resist spoiling her with the odd treat - taken directly from his hand and accompanied by a light pat on the head, - and a wealth of affection.

'Silly puppy,' he laughs, nuzzling his nose against Pip's. 'You just want to play, don't you? Such a cutie. Such a little cutie.' Matt furiously rubs the pup's side and scratches under her chin. Pip goes wild. She drools over Matt's wrist (and by association, the tip of his sleeve), and joyously kicks her large paws. But the stimulation obviously becomes too much for her harried system to handle and she wriggles her bottom in the air, quivering in crazy anticipation, before pouncing on the man who chuckles warmly with a grin that feels too cheerful to logically fit on his face. He squirms as the pup cranes her neck to lap fervently at his face and tries pushing her away, to no avail.

In an instant of short-lived heart failure, Matt loses his balance and falls back unceremoniously to the floor. This grants the puppy the rare opportunity to call dibs on his nose and cover more ground than ever before. Tail beating hard against Matt's thigh and two paws pressing into his stomach, she squeezes even closer to dart a slobbery tongue over the man's ear, exploring the deliciously awesome-smelling neck of her human. Then abruptly she bounds away, the clumsy canine tripping over itself in overexcitement, before predictably skidding forward and hitting her muzzle against the floor.

Panting hard, the puppy rolls over, and, tongue tumbling from her mouth, awaits a gratifying belly rub with a demanding yip. Matt promptly gives in, massaging her hot, exposed tummy as the rowdy fuzz ball writhes on her back. One hand scatters scrupulous, finely tuned scratches, while the other bypasses the pup's snapping mouth to rub one floppy ear, as a playful growl rumbles in her throat. Pip arches into the touch while her leg shudders in bliss.

Any other day and he would have been alerted to their company instantly, but he's caught up in the moment, grinning from ear to ear, and Matt doesn't hear a thing.

'Matt, I wanted your advice on this ca-'

Karen stops dead.

Matt freezes with his hands hovering awkwardly mid-air, as Pip wriggles out from underneath him and shakes herself off. He's aware of how he must look. Clothes in disarray, hair ruffled, kneeling on the floor with cheeks flushed with happiness and the remnants of laughter, and now, embarrassment. Nowhere near his usual, cool, collected self.

'Karen…it's not what it looks li-'

But she just laughs, waves off his discomfort, and beams, 'Knew it.'

That's the first time Matt takes Pip home; it's not the last.

 **…**

After that, Pip becomes a regular fixture in Matt's life, so much so that when he is forced to take a couple days off after exchanging blows with what he'd thought was just your typical old street thug but turned out to be an extremely talented competitor, and emerged with more than a few cuts and bruises, Foggy and Karen are at a complete loss.

Pip pitifully slugs Matt's pant's with a doleful expression and wide, dewy eyes and the classic, limp paw when they come to collect her from his place, as if sensing the imminent separation, and he murmurs his goodbyes, tells her to be good, and then it's up to Foggy to lift her away from her guardian, while everyone's heart breaks at the eruption of gut-wrenching howls.

They grab a few of her things to try to make her as comfortable as possible, but it doesn't help. Karen places her inside her basket alongside her worn teddy with a missing ear (aka, the torn off and eaten one. May it rest in peace), where she stands on wobbly legs and shivers. It makes her heart hurt.

That night, she won't eat, she won't drink. In the end, they have to wrap her up in one of Matt's shirts to catch a wink of sleep.

By day two, neither of them can take it anymore. It was a stupid idea, anyway.

They ring up Matt and he decides that if he's able to stand again, he's able to look after one high-maintenance pup. Both Foggy and Karen disagree, naturally, but they settle on a compromise, wherein they will stay at Matt's and assist him in any way he needs, and Pip can have her separation anxiety dealt with in smaller, healthier doses, one step at a time.

Hearing their approach, Matt leverages himself up on a cushion and then cautiously heaves himself off the couch with a grunt. By the time the door knocks, he is already halfway there and Karen glares upon seeing him stumbling around, seemingly without purpose, but before she can nag at him to rest, Pip is straining against Foggy's grip, unable to contain herself at the prospect off regaining access to her human.

'Come here, girl,' he murmurs and she barks in impatience, energized by the sound of his voice. Rustling up a soft smile, he pats his thighs and clicks his teeth. 'Good girl. C'mere.'

Foggy gives a low groan and holds his breath as he unclips the leash. Pip barrels towards Matt and bounces in delight as he hunkers down, stretching to dab a moist tongue over his prickly chin, wanting nothing more than to lick her favourite face. 'Who's a good girl?' he croons, 'You are. Yes, you are.'

Behind him, Matt can feel his friends' twin beams.

'Alright, alright. Calm down,' Matt laughs, after several minutes of non-stop licking. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

Pip falls back, panting and grinning up at him in something like worship.

'Bit keyed up, isn't she?' Matt remarks, while the puppy gallops in a never-ending loop around him. The motion makes him dizzy and he's not even witnessing the spectacle. Though, to be fair, Matt supposes it is enough to make anyone's head spin.

Foggy scrubs a hand over his forehead and blows out a ragged sigh. 'You don't know the half of it, man. _Someone,'_ he states pointedly, as Pip extends her neck to push a wet nose against Matt's palm, sniffing loudly, 'was acting like another someone had D-I-E-D.' He spells it out, but it's not necessary. The puppy is oblivious.

Matt arches a brow, inquisitive. 'Had your hands full, then?'

'Oh, fuck, yeah.'

That gets a silky chuckle outta him, but he soon sobers.

'Well - um. Thank-you,' he says, rubbing the back of his neck, 'Both of you. For taking care of her. I appreciate it.'

'I'd like to say it was our pleasure, but it really wasn't. Don't ever do that to us again.'

'Agreed.'

Matt cracks a smile alive with mirth at his friend's tone and Foggy shakes his head and punches his shoulder, but he's grinning ,too.

 **…**

Matt pauses when he feels a tug on his shoelaces. He slowly extracts the thin cord from between slippery teeth and frowns down at the perpetrator. Pip topples backwards and kicks out her legs, panting innocently.

'You little scamp. You're more trouble than you're worth,' Matt tells her, reaching down to rub her belly.

They both know he doesn't mean it.


End file.
